The Oracles Prophecy
by Morwen Langan
Summary: A fifth year fic: you can decide how average. Harry Potter goes to Egypt with the Weasleys and discovers an ancient prophecy spoken by the Oracle at Delphi right before it disappeared. Now he must find some fire and ice before the next planetary alignment
1. Club Phoenix

Chapter One - Club Phoenix  
  
The night was un-seasonably warm, and the humidity was so high, it was making a certain member of 4 Privet Drive so sweaty, he briefly considered breaking the laws for underage magic to perform a cooling charm. But he quickly put those thoughts aside as he stared back at his parchment, illuminated by the beam of light from his flashlight. Either Professor Snape's essay on Polyjuice Potion was easier than most summer essays, but maybe it was just the fact that Harry Potter had personal experience with the brewing of that particular potion. He had made the potion with his two best friends, Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley, during their second year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and although Hermione had done most of the work of brewing the potion and stealing the ingredients, Harry had helped, too. He thought of Hermione, and all she had done for him over the years, anything to take his mind off the heat (plus the fact that every room in the Dursley household had air conditioning except his). Not only had she helped him with his homework, she'd also been his partner in crime, along with Ron. She'd helped him save Sirius Black, his wrongly imprisoned Godfather, during his third year, and she'd taught him the summoning charm last year, during the Triwizard Tournament.  
  
Briefly, an image of Cedric Diggory's dead body flashed before his eyes. Wormtail, Voldemort's assistant, had killed Cedric last year during the Triwizard Tournament's third task. That image haunted Harry's dreams, the body crumpled on the ground, all life gone from the limp form. Harry hadn't even known Cedric that well, but they had been the two Hogwarts Champions during the tournament. Harry still blamed himself for Cedric's death. It was his fault the cup had been made a portkey to take him to Voldemort, it was his fault for asking Cedric to take the cup with him, it was his fault for putting Cedric, his friends, his family, everyone he came in contact with, in danger of being hurt by Voldemort. Harry knew Voldemort had come back to power; he had been there, seen it with his own eyes. His own blood had been used to resurrect his sworn enemy, and Harry hated himself for it. Hated himself for his anger at Voldemort, an anger and a hatred that ran so deep, it tainted his very soul. He hated himself for being capable of such anger, and he made a vow never to let anyone know such anger existed inside him. Voldemort had taken Cedric, and Harry knew that Cedric was just the beginning, for Voldemort didn't care whom he killed, as long as he could hurt Harry, make the suffering so great that Harry collapsed from the pain and the loss. And Harry knew that. He knew what was coming. He just didn't know when.  
  
Harry slammed his book shut and wiped his eyes. He stared at the clock and read 9:58. He stared down at his parchment and let his mind wander. The Dursleys had acted as they usually did when he came home from school. They ignored him, except for when they wanted him to perform manual labor. If Harry wasn't cooking Dudley's special meals from the "Weight Watchers Cookbook" (Aunt Petunia had ordered it from the United States), he was mowing the lawn, pruning the garden, or cleaning the garage, the attic, the basement; the list of chores never ended. The only positive side of this was the fact that Harry had grown muscular. This combined with his growth spurt to make him exactly six feet and lean, yet not lanky. His muscle was sleek, not bulky, just right for his body frame. Harry knew he looked pretty good, and wondered if his new muscle would help him at Quidditch in any way, or even make Cho Chang take a second glance at him.  
  
Harry sighed. Cho was probably still grieving over Cedric. "Everything leads to bloody Cedric," his mind screamed, "Will I never feel any peace? Or maybe, was that what Voldemort wanted all along." Immediately, he lost all interest in finishing his essay, or doing any of his summer homework. Harry suddenly felt suffocated. He needed fresh air. But how to get out without waking the Dursleys? The stairs creaked, so that wasn't an option. His Uncle Vernon had a way of rousing himself from his deep slumber just when Harry was almost free. His last attempt at escape the other week had resulted in two days without meals. Harry had written to Ron for help, and a few hours later, Hedwig had come home laden with Mrs. Weasley's pies and cookies. For that, he had been extremely grateful. No one cooked like Mrs. Weasley, and Harry had made a mental note to ask for some of her recepies. Maybe if he wowed the Dursleys with his cooking skills, they might be a little nicer. Or maybe not. He decided that he didn't want to think about it, and to focus on the task at hand.  
  
He went to the window and opened it as wide as it would go, and stared down. He couldn't jump it, even if he used a cushioning charm, which was forbidden outside of Hogwarts. There was only one thing to do, something he'd seen on the telly at Mrs. Figg's house. He stripped his bed of its sheets and tied the ends together. He secured one end around his bedpost, and threw the other end out the window. He let Hedwig out of her cage, and the white owl pecked his cheek before soaring out the window. Harry assumed that if he was stifling, it must have been just as bad for Hedwig. Harry watched her stretch her wings as she flew through the trees. He walked back to his desk and switched off his flashlight. Then he started to climb out the window. As he began to rappel down the side of the house, Harry briefly thought about what he would do as soon as he go on the ground. There was nothing to do on Privet Drive, so Harry decided to walk to downtown Surry. For once, he would celebrate his birthday in a fashion besides working for the Dursleys. Maybe he would even buy himself a present.  
  
It was then that Harry realized that he had no Muggle money, and the few Galleons he had up in his trunk wouldn't be accepted anywhere in Surry that he knew of. "So much for a decent birthday gift," he thought to himself. Now that wasn't true. He was sure that five owls would swoop into his room later that morning with presents from all his friends. There might even be a letter from Sirius. With this thought in mind, Harry jumped down the last few feet and landed with ease. His Seeker reflexes had not deteriorated with the absence of numerous Quidditch practices during the previous school year due to the Triwizard Tournament. He stared back up at his window, and only hoped that none of the neighbors would notice the sheets trailing down from his window if they awoke for midnight snacks. But then, the worst that would happen would be him, locked in his room again, and he still had a pie or two underneath his loose floorboard. The Dursleys couldn't touch him now. He was free of their home and their rule, even if it was just for one night. And he was going to live that night like it was his last.  
  
Harry scanned the street. No one was there. There were no sounds except for the rustle of the wind in the trees. He would have thought it was spooky, but after facing Voldemort numerous times, very little scared him now. With one last glance at his window, Harry set off toward downtown Surry.  
  
Hermione Granger was fuming. And she had every right to feel this way. "Mom, you're not serious. I'm fifteen, I do not need a babysitter!" Dr. Granger sighed. Her daughter had been home for only a few weeks, and they had been bickering about everything. Hermione's nine-month absence had strained her relationship with her daughter. She had felt such sorrow when Hermione had unpacked a tube of lipstick and some mascara from her trunk. Wasn't she supposed to take her daughter out to buy clothes and makeup? Dr. Granger was determined to do something of that sort before Hermione left again.  
  
"The babysitter should be arriving any minute. I know how old you are, but I just don't feel comfortable leaving you alone. If we didn't have to go to the practice's ball and award ceremony we wouldn't, but there's nothing we can do. The babysitter is only two years older than you, so maybe she can help you catch up with what's been going on in the real world." Hermione looked shocked. She was just about to retort when the doorbell rang. "I'll get it," called Hermione as she raced out of the room. Dr. Granger rubbed her eyes and went to finish getting ready.  
  
Hermione opened the door and stared at the girl who would be "watching" her for the evening. The girl wore black, lots of black. Fishnet stockings and scuffed combat boots and a torn black jean skirt, plus a black tee shirt with safety pins closing a slit down the neck. Around her neck was a dog collar stuck with silver studs. In each ear were several piercings, and the girl's hair was jet black. "Hello, I am Lavinia," she said in an unfaltering monotone. "I'm Hermione," said Hermione, "Would you like to come in." Lavinia just nodded. Hermione opened the door wider. This was going to be a long night.  
  
Drs. Granger weren't sure what they wanted more: Hermione to be home alone, or Hermione to be at home with Lavinia. In the end, they decided to keep Lavinia, since she was someone to watch Hermione and it was too late to find someone else. The Drs. Granger didn't want to anger her, not so much out of fear as out of annoyance. If worst came to worst, Hermione could always hex her, since Lavinia didn't know about the laws of Underage Magic. They could always explain the situation to the Ministry of Magic officials later. With one last goodbye to Hermione, the two doctors drove away, leaving their precious daughter with a stranger who wore black.  
  
"Well, that was fun," Lavinia said as the Drs. Granger drove away, much cheerier than her earlier monotone. "Excuse me?" said Hermione, puzzled by Lavinias change in attitude. "Man, its hot outside." Hermione simply nodded. "Hey, you don't mind if I invite some friends over, do you?" Once again, Hermione nodded her indifference. She told Lavinia that she would be upstairs, and then went on her way.  
  
It wasn't very hard not to notice when three more girls about Lavinia's height knocked on the Granger's front door. Hermione assumed that Lavinia would get the door, and went back to writing her Herbology essay, about the evolution of magical plants she'd picked from the list on her assignment sheet. So far, she'd only written about gillyweed, making a special note about Harry's use of the plant during the Triwizard Tournament. How was Harry, she wondered. Hermione knew about Harrys guilt from the past year, with Cedric's death and Voldemort's rise. It was obvious that he blamed both events on himself, no matter what anyone had said to him, and Hera knew she tried.  
  
She'd been trying to sort out her feelings for Harry and Ron on the train home, and had spontaneously given them both quick kisses on the cheek before she left the station with her parents. Hermione didn't know that both Harry and Ron had developed feelings of some sort for their bushy haired friend during their fourth year at Hogwarts. During the Yule Ball, she'd seen the reactions both boys. For once, she was not as their friend, but a girl. Harry had developed an infatuation with Cho Chang at the beginning of the year, and Hermione had to admit that Cho was not only pretty, but she liked the same things as Harry. However, after Cedrics death, Harry had dropped his Cho obsession, on the grounds of her grieving for Cedric. Hermione was a little happy when he had admitted this. Harry was one of her best friends, and she knew (although she never told Harry this) that a relationship with Cho would never work. They were just too different.  
  
Hermione knew Ron liked her, and she knew inside that she had decided to ignore her feelings, since she really didn't know how strong they were. Hermione had seen his frustration with her and her relationship with Viktor Krum, and she knew that it had been vented on Harry. Harry had known the feelings existed, also, and she had overheard him chiding Ron for hiding them.  
  
Hermione remembered the obscure satisfaction she had felt when Ron had been jealous of her and Victor. She had wanted Ron to ask her to the Yule Ball, and suddenly, she made a realization. Did she really want to go to Bulgaria next week, if she'd only gone to the ball with Victor to make Ron jealous of her? She tried to sort out her feelings for Ron, contemplating the way he made her feel and the possibilities of him feeling anything for her. She made her decision then and there. Tomorrow, she would write to Ron and tell him how she felt. Hopefully, he would write her back and accept her offer to be more than friends once they went back to Hogwarts.  
  
Hermione would have continued pondering her feelings, but the loud stomping on the stairwell pulled her back into reality. Numerous fists pounded on her door, which Hermione had locked upon entering. She quickly threw her books into her trunk, and shoved her quills and ink into her desk. She put her spare parchment into a drawer. "Hermione, open up," shouted Lavinia. Hermione cautiously approached the door and unlocked it. Four girls burst into the room. "Hermione, when are your parents coming home?" asked Lavinia. Hermione thought about previous years. "Usually around two or three in the morning," said Hermione. The four girls grinned devilishly. "Oh, by the way, this is Robin, Avril, and Gigi," said Lavinia, "Friends from school." Hermione nodded. These girls were up to something, something that needed her cooperation to work. "So Hermione-it is Hermione right?" said Laura. Hermione nodded. "You see, this new club opens tonight, its called Club Phoenix, and since I'm in charge of you, (she turned to her friends and grinned) would you like to come with us? We can drive, and you don't need to be over 21 or anything." Hermione thought about it. On one hand, it would be fun, getting out of the house. The only other thing to do was homework, but it was hard to concentrate in the heat. On the other hand, did she really want to go to a club, with lots of loud noises and strangers? It only took her a few seconds to decide. "I suppose so," said Hermione.  
  
The girls just stood there. "Well, are we going?" asked Hermione. "Wearing that, are you kidding," cried Lavinia. Hermione looked down at her skirt and tights. She looked nice, not shabby or anything. "I guess," she said. "Oh no you don't," said Robin, crossing the room in a few steps and opening up her closet. The four girls began going through her clothes. Hermione was forced to sit on her bed, and stare at her clothing being pushed and wrinkled and criticized by these four strangers. Finally Gigi cried out, "What have we here?" She pulled out a dress that Hermione had always considered a bit risqué. It had spaghetti straps and a very low neckline. It was very short, and it laced up the back. It also happened to be made of leather, and it was a bit tight. Her mother had bought it for her as a fourteenth birthday present, as a joke, for Dr. Granger knew Hermione would never wear it anytime. She secretly hoped that maybe one day Hermione would open up her closet and find the dress, and wear when she went out to meet a normal boy, or hang out with normal friends, not the witches, and more importantly, the wizards that Hermione talked about from school. Hermione took off her blouse and her skirt, but left her black tights on. She silently pulled on the dress, and held still as Lavinia laced up the back. Why did I agree to this again? She asked herself.  
  
Once she was dressed, Hermione was herded to the bathroom. For the next half and hour, Hermione sat on the toilet lid as the four girls applied her makeup from an unknown source and worked with her hair. Hermione was sure she was going to lose her sanity, with all the poking and prodding and pulling, so she began to recite the twelve uses of dragons blood over and over. That always kept her mind active. If the girls noticed her spacing out, they didn't say so. After what seemed like forever, Lavinia cried out, "Well, I never would have guessed that Miss Hermione Granger cleans up so nicely!" Hermione stood up and stretched her legs. Then she looked in the mirror. And what she saw was amazing.  
  
The four had somehow tamed her hair so that it was sleek and soft. It had been pulled into an elaborate twist at the back of her head, so that it was almost elegant. A few stray wisps of hair framed her face, which had also been transformed. Her eyes were smoky and mysterious, with lots of gray eye shadow and black eye liner. Her lips were soft and red, and her cheekbones had been highlighted with some sort of peach blush. Her shoulders had been dusted with glitter. This was not the Hermione Granger she knew, and the thought was a bit enticing. She could go out into a world that didn't know her, dressed to kill, and do whatever she wanted. "I guess I can't back out now," thought Hermione. She was herded down the stairs and out the door. The five girls walked outside to Lavinias car, and the five sped off into the night.  
  
Harry had no idea where he was going, but somehow, his feet took him to downtown Surry. He had noticed that a breeze had picked up, and it had gotten stronger as it got darker. As he entered the vicinity of downtown Surry, he noticed that the street he walked on was lined with cars and lights were blaring from a building at the end of the street. Harry, with nothing better to do, decided to see what was going on. As he walked, the breeze tore a flyer off a telephone pole. Harry, who was lost in thought, did not notice it until it hit him in the face. His anger at this rude awakening quickly vanished as he read the flyer:  
  
LOCAL DJS NEEDED FOR CLUB PHOENIX OPENING  
  
SPINNING CONTEST FOR THOSE WHO ENTER  
  
NO FEES NECESSARY  
  
FREE DRINKS WITH PARTICIPATION CASH PRIZE FOR WINNER  
  
Harry, who had no idea how to "spin", was greatly intrigued. He knew what DJs did; they played music for clubs. And they were offering free drinks. Harry immediately decided to sign up for the contest. He didn't care that he didn't know how to spin, or even what it was. He could spend the night drinking and dancing with total strangers, maybe even make some money. It beat spending another night in his room. Harry was secretly surprised by his attitude. Maybe it was hormones or something. As for the spinning, he would just watch some other people do it first, hoping to learn by watching them. As Harry approached Club Phoenix, the crowd that was waiting to get in absorbed his body. He searched frantically for a side entrance or something to get him out of the crowd. To his luck, he spotted a piece of paper taped to the side that said:  
  
ALL PARTICIPATING DJS PLEASE ENTER THROUGH SIDE DOOR (-------  
  
Harry pushed his way through the crowd to the side door. It opened into a dark hallway, where two boys were sprawled on chairs. A sinewy old man strode down the hall to Harry. "Hey boy, what kinda DJ are you? You look like those tossers out from the States." Harry stared down at his clothing. He didn't think he looked that bad. His jeans, Dudley's hand-me-downs, were a bit baggy, but that was what the other boys were wearing. His tee shirt was clean, but his hair was unruly as ever. The man reached over and tore the sleeves off of his shirt. "Hey!" Harry cried, wondering what the Dursleys would say about it in the morning. "Come with me," said the man. Harry followed obediently, not quite sure if he'd made the right decision. The man led Harry into a room off of the hall. The man then proceeded to clasp several necklaces around Harry's neck, and he plastered a fake tattoo on his arm. Harry didn't really mind once he saw what the man was doing. When the man finished, Harry hardly recognized himself. Very nice! He thought.  
  
"Look kid, the only reason I'm doin' this is because I've seen those other two spin, and they're bloody awful. I'm counting on you to make the music tonight, so don't screw up, ok!" Harry gulped. There was no way he could back out now. The man abruptly left the room. Harry, trying to play it cool, while internally panicking, walked back down the hall and sat down next to the other boys. "So, how do you guys spin?" he asked casually. "Well, my strengths fading the music," said one of the boys, "You must have good transitions, or it sounds funny." The other boy smirked. "Make sure you change the disk before the new song ends. This bugger over here has made that mistake more than once," The boy smirked. "Oh sod off you wanker," The other boy cried, before turning back to Harry. "Don't scratch during requests, especially if you like the requester." In fact, don't scratch any disks if you don't know what your doing. I had a problem with that once. The two boys laughed, reminiscing about previous times spinning. They smiled as the man reappeared. "Lets go boys, the gates 'ave opened." Harry, still very nervous, followed the man.  
  
Hermione listened to the radio as the car sped on the highway. She liked the breeze in her face. Laura turned up the radio as a new song came on, "Children of the Revolution" by T-Rex. Obviously, Lavinia and her friends liked the classics station. Hermione found that she liked the song. As Lavinia and Avril and Gigi began to sing along, Hermione tried to pick up the words. It would be a good dance song, she decided. She would request it at the club. Lavinia pulled off the highway, and into Surry. Hermione began to wonder what Harry was doing. Probably sleeping, she figured. She knew he lived somewhere in Surry, when suddenly it hit her; it was his birthday! How could she have forgotten? She had bought him a present, and it had arrived by owl post a few days ago. Hermione resolved to send it as soon as she got home.  
  
Somehow, Lavinia managed to find a parking space in the crowded parking lot. Hermione jumped out of the car, feeling a slight adrenaline rush as she saw the lights and the people. She'd never done anything like this before, and she decided she might as well have a good time. The five girls joined the huge crowd waiting to enter the best club outside of London. Eventually, they entered the front gates. Inside was a fountain, and at the top was a metal phoenix sculpture, illuminated by golden and red light. It was beautiful in a strange way. Hermione was reminded of Fawkes, Professor Dumbledore's phoenix. She knew how much Harry loved Fawkes, ever since the bird had come to his rescue in the Chamber of Secrets.  
  
"Harry again," she thought, "I wonder how he's doing?" Hermione put her thoughts aside as she entered the second set of doors and stood in awe. The room was large, and illuminated with gold and red lights. The floor had a mosaic phoenix, and the same design was glowing on the ceiling. Black silk curtains swept the sides, and velvet cushions lined the border of the dance floor. One side of the room was devoted to the bar, and the wall was lined with bottles of various drinks. The opposite side had the DJs stand raised above the floor on a platform, with a tiny balcony for requesters to line up. It was all wicked.  
  
Lavinia led her posse over to a cushion as the hall began to fill. Then she left to get drinks. Hermione noticed her friend's outfits. Avril had on a blue tank top that laced up the back, plus some blue leather pants. Robin had jeans on and a tube top, and Gigi had black leather pants on, and a black tank top. They were all ready to party. They had probably planned this before Lavinia got her babysitting job. Hermione glanced at her watch. It was already 11:00. She made a mental note to remind Lavinia when to leave, so that they could get home before her parents did. Hermione didn't even want to think about what her parents would say to her, about her behavior or her outfit. For some odd reason, Hermione didn't really care. It must be the atmosphere, she thought. Lavinia brought over some cans of diet coke. "You get the caffeine, but not the calories," laughed Lavinia, as she passed them out. She sat down next to Hermione and took a large swallow. Then the music started, and the girls cheered. Hermione set down her diet coke, and went out to the dance floor.  
  
Later that evening, Avril confided in Gigi that Hermione obviously didn't know what a guy magnet she was. Hermione had not stopped dancing with various guys for the past half hour. "She must never get out," thought Gigi. The music had been ok. The four had only had limited club experience, but from what they heard, the DJs were awful. Then the music stopped for a few minutes. When it started back up again, you could tell the DJ was different. He was good. In fact, he was great. Avril saw that Hermione had left her recent dance partner and headed for the DJ stand. A few minutes later, T-Rex's "Children of the Revolution" came on over the loudspeakers. Hermione had gone back out onto the dance floor, and was dancing and lip- synching to the song. Avril saw the DJ leave the box and head out to the dance floor. He was kind of cute, she mused. He cut in and began dancing with Hermione. They just seemed to click. Their movements were in synch and they seemed to fit together perfectly. It was rather remarkable.  
  
When the song ended, a slow one came on, and Hermione leaned her head against his shoulder. They continued to dance for the next fifteen minutes. At the stroke of midnight, he spoke to her, and then they kissed. Their heads came close, and they shut their eyes, and then their lips touched. The kiss seemed gentle at first, but fiercer as they continued. You could see the electricity that flowed between them. They continued for several minutes, took a break, and then continued kissing. Slowly he led her to a cushion, and their kissing continued for several more minutes. But then she pulled away. And screamed. And ran to the girls bathroom.  
  
Lavinia, Avril, Robin, and Gigi had no choice but to follow her.  
  
Harry had stood behind the two other DJs after declining their offer to go first. He saw how they switched disks and took requests, and after a half hour, he took his turn. He was surprised at how fast he picked it up. He could hear the catcalls from the dance floor. He took of his headphones and waved them in the air, which resulted in several screams. I could do this for a living, he thought. A girl scantly dressed in black made an unusual request, "Children of the Revolution" by T-Rex. Most people asked for new hits or chart favorites. She complimented him on his spinning, and he thanked her. She seemed surprisingly familiar, and something inside him stirred as he stared at her. She looked away quickly, and then went back to the dance floor. Harry felt an urge to follow her, and finally succumb to it.  
  
He gave the headphones to Billy, one of the other boys who DJ'd. Then he followed his mystery girl out onto the dance floor. She was dancing with some guy, but Harry cut around him easily enough. And then it was just them. The girl swung her hips to the song, and sang the lyrics softly. She had a pretty voice. They moved together, swinging their hips and intertwining their arms, getting lost in the lights and the music and each other. It was a new type of ecstasy, that needed nothing but two people who felt the same way at the same time. And Harry and Hermione, without knowing it, had recognized each other. And they everyone seemed to understand this except them.  
  
A slow song came on, and Mystery Girl wrapped her arms around his neck, and rested her head on his shoulder. He was surprised; he didn't even know who she was. Yet, it just felt. right. Harry looked down at his watch and squinted, trying to read it. He saw that it was exactly 12:00. "Do you know what," he whispered in her ear, "It's my birthday, right now. And I think that this is the best birthday I've ever had. " She giggled softly, still swaying to the music. She picked her head up off his shoulder and looked up at the Phoenix on the ceiling. Harry felt a shock of recognition. Somehow, he knew this girl. All of a sudden, she pulled his head down and smiled. And then he leaned down and she brought her head up, and they kissed. Warm and tantalizing, this kiss was amazing. Her lips were soft, and Harry felt something stir inside oh him. He pressed his lips to hers; kissed her like it would be his last. She let out a tiny sound, barely audible, but Harry heard it. He pulled away slowly, and saw stars in her eyes. They continued to dance, locked in a world of their own.  
  
Hermione was reminded of a scene from Romeo and Juliet. That particular scene was rather fitting for the current situation. She didn't know whom she was dancing with, although something about him seemed familiar. Yet she felt something. It wasn't love, but it certainly wasn't dislike. To Hermione's surprise, her dance partner whispered, "Sin from my lips? Oh trespass sweetly urged. Give me my sin again." Hermione, taken aback, jerked her head off of his shoulder, only to have him kiss her again, this time more urgent and fierce than before. She was so absorbed in their kissing that she didn't even notice that they had moved to the side of the dance floor until she felt a soft velvet cushion under her. She traced her fingers over his facial features, feeling the tiny beads of sweat that lined his forehead. As she brought her fingers down, she felt something on his forehead, hidden by his dark hair. She traced it with her fingers, and then suddenly, it hit her. "Harry?" she whispered, breaking off their kissing. "How do you know my name?" he asked her, then pushed his lips onto hers again. Hermione jerked away.  
  
"Harry!" she screamed.  
  
"Hermione!" he gasped.  
  
Hermione said the first thing that came to mind, "Don't tell Ron, ok!" Then she jumped off the cushion. She started walking away, until panic overtook her and she bolted across the floor, pushing aside anyone who got in her way. She didn't even notice that Harry hadn't followed her. He was still sitting on the cushion in a state of shock. He had felt something for the mystery girl, but he was also content with letting them go when the night ended. How would he live this down? How would they be able to speak again, go to school together, and be in the same common room? With these questions flooding his brain, Harry bolted to the DJs stand. "I have to go," he called to the two DJs.  
  
Harry pushed open the door he had entered from and walked out into the night, not even noticing how cold it had gotten. Harry shivered as a cold blast of wind hit him, bringing him back to earth. He had a lot to think about in the morning. 


	2. Six Owls on July 31

Thoughts are in italics.  
  
Chapter Two - Six Owls on July 31  
  
When Harry woke up the next morning, six owls were staring at him, perched on his footboard. Six parcels sat on the foot of his bed. He saw five sets of familiar handwriting on the packages, and a new script he knew he'd seen before, but could not remember who it belonged to. He groggily rolled over and stared at his alarm clock. It was 6:00 in the morning. He'd only gotten five hours of sleep. He rolled over and covered his face with his pillow, trying to block out the early morning sunlight that illuminated his room. However, he decided it would be better to open his presents before the rest of the Dursleys woke up. Groaning, he sat up and groped for his glasses on the dresser next to his bed. He held an arm over his eyes for a few moments, trying to adjust to the brightness. He reached down to the foot of his bed and grabbed at a package. All thoughts of sleep left instantly when he saw the name. Rons presents were always fun and useful, and Harry wondered what Ron had gotten him this year. He tore aside the wrapping and found a note on top of two objects. The note, in Rons untidy scrawl, said:  
  
Harry, How are those bloody muggles treating you? If you need any more food, just send Hedwig back over, and then pack your trunk. I swore, when Mum heard that they weren't feeding you, she almost had a heart attack. "If they so much as hurt a hair on his head in any way, I don't care what Dumbledore says, Harry Potter will become a permanent resident in this house!" (Harry thought of little, kind hearted, Mrs. Weasleys voice. Mrs. Weasley had been the only mother figure Harry knew, and he knew how much Mrs. Weasley cared for him. )  
  
Anyway, if you want to come to the Burrow, Mum and Dad would be more than happy to have you over. Mum said that she would talk to Dumbledore, and try to see if you could visit before school starts. Hermione is coming after she gets back from Bulgaria. Can you believe she's going to visit "Vicky!"? I mean she probably doesn't even like him. He's so old and so ugly and so.Bulgarian. What does she see in him? What does he have that I don't, besides money, fame, and spot on a professional Quidditch team? I guess I'll never understand her. Anyway, I hope you like your presents. Enjoy!  
  
Your Friend, Ron  
  
Harry reached into the box and pulled out both objects. The first one was a miniature replica of a Firebolt, the model of Harry's beloved broomstick. It flew in tiny circles on his palm, but it stopped floating when Harry set it back down. The second object was a thick brown book. Harry was astonished. He never would have suspected Ron, of all people, to send him a book. After all, book giving was Hermione's job. However the book, "10,000 Useful Curses and Counter-curses, the Revised Edition" by Cimorene Landenberg, seemed very interesting. Inside the cover was another note in Rons writing, which read:  
  
Harry, You had better learn some of these. Dad hinted at the start of another dueling club this year, and I want to whip Malfoy's arse! And you can help me! Plus, we can show Hermione a thing or two about real dueling. She won't show off this year. Mum says we're going to pick you up next weak, Saturday at 10:00 at night, so we can use the Floo network without disturbing the muggles. So try to keep them from finding out. You wont believe what we have in store for you. One tip: pack for hot weather along with your Hogwarts things!  
  
See you, Ron  
  
Harry was surprised. Obviously the Weasleys were taking a trip, and they wanted him to come, too. The Weasleys didn't have much, money-wise anyway, so he decided that he had better pay his way as much as possible. He knew that wherever they were going, he would have a lot of fun. Doing anything with the Weasleys resulted in lots of laughs. Harry figured that he could use a good laugh.  
  
He scanned the letter to look for clues as to where the Weasleys were going. He stopped at the sentence explaining the Dueling Club. Harry was astonished. The last Dueling Club at Hogwarts had been a complete failure, due partially to the fact that Gilderoy Lockhart was one of the professors in charge. Harry only had negative memories of the Dueling Club, the main one being Draco Malfoy's snake, which a bizarre chain of events had lead the entire school to think that he was the evil Heir of Slytherin. When Harry kept the snake from hurting a fellow student, he and the rest of Hogwarts had discovered that Harry had a rare and unusual ability; he was a Parslesmouth. Although this was an obscurely useful skill, it was one he would have preferred to keep a secret. There was a prejudice against Parlesmouths, since most of the previous ones had been from Slytherin house, and were evil.  
  
I wonder what will happen this time, He wondered, Maybe this dueling club will be different. Maybe I'll learn something useful for a change.  
  
Harry placed Rons presents aside and picked up the smallest package. He opened the little box and stared at a shiny gold badge with the letter "P" stamped in the middle of the Hogwarts crest. He picked up the letter next to the box, and looked at the emerald green ink used to address the envelope. He tore open the letter and yanked out the parchment. He read:  
  
HOGWARTS SCHOOL Of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY  
  
Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore (Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc. Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)  
  
Dear Mr. Potter, We are pleased to inform you that you have been selected as one of the two Gryffindor prefects for your year. The other is Hermione Granger. This is an honor that very few students receive, and with this honor comes great responsibility. Prefects are responsible for keeping the common room and halls in order when the Professors cannot. Prefects also have the power to give and take away house points from any house, including their own, if it is called for. All prefects must meet once a month at a meeting presided over by the Head Boy and Girl, who will be announced on the train to Hogwarts. All prefects must report to the prefects' car on the Hogwarts Express at the beginning of the trip. The prefects of each house live in separate dormitories from the rest of the students in their year. These dormitories will be shown to you upon arrival at Hogwarts, and are only accessible from each common room, and from the prefects' meeting room. The entrance to these dormitories will be shown to you after your common room has been set in order. As you know Mr. Potter, these are dark times; you and Miss Granger will be called upon, as will the other prefects, to keep your fellow students safe.  
  
Yours sincerely, Minerva McGonagall,  
  
Deputy Headmistress  
  
So Harry was a prefect. Secretly, this was something he had always wanted. And so was Hermione. That thought stopped him. He was going to be spending a lot more time with Hermione, the very person he didn't want to think about for the rest of the summer. He did not know what he felt for Hermione; after last night, any truths he had come to terms with had vanished at Club Phoenix. Hermione was supposed to be with Ron, and he was supposed to be with Ginny. That's what everyone said anyway. Harry knew he had no feelings for Ginny besides those purely of friend, and he didn't want to go and ruin that friendship by attempting to start an unwanted relationship. He reached for the next box. It was from Hagrid, the Hogwarts Gamekeeper and the Keeper of the Keys and Ground. He was about to open it, when Pig, Ron's owl, began flying madly around the room. Harry noticed that the school owl had left. Hedwig had flown back to her cage and was gulping up water from her dish. Reluctantly, Harry put down Hagrids present and fed each of the remaining owls a treat. After they had been fed, the three owls soared out the window. Knowing there was no chance of getting Pig to slow down, Harry went back to his bed and sat down.  
  
Harry discovered that Hagrid had sent him a box of various chocolates from Honeydukes, the sweet shop it Hogsmead. Harry bit into a piece of chocolate and picked up the note inside the box. It was cheerful, asking about his summer and his relatives. One sentence made him drop the chocolate.  
  
There have been several reports of Death Eater activity in Hogsmead. Dumbledore is doing everything he can to clear it up. Great man, Dumbledore. As you probably guessed, Fudge is denying He-who-must-not-be- named's return left and right. Who decided to put that fellow in office anyway? I'll never understand why that idiot can't see ten feet in front of him.  
  
So, the Death Eaters were starting to act up again. Harry wanted to kick something.  
  
Why is Fudge so thick? He thought, There is evidence everywhere that Voldemort has returned, but he just won't believe it. Harry buried his face in his hands.  
  
****** When Hermione woke up the next morning, the first thing she wanted to do was curl up and cry. So she did.  
  
The earlier that morning, around one o'clock, Hermione had come home with Lavinia, Gigi, Avril, and Robin, and immediately, she went upstairs to shower. She had just gotten into bed when her parents came home. She could hear her parents, slightly tipsy, talking to Lavinia. They paid her, and Lavinia drove away. The Drs. Granger crawled up the stairs and into their room, not even stopping to check on her. Hermione couldn't decide if she was happy or disappointed. She needed comfort, but she didn't think she could tell them what happened. Hermione couldn't fall asleep, so she did the only other thing she could think of. She thought about things. Namely, the kiss, the club, and Harry.  
  
Hermione felt repulsed at herself. She had kissed Harry, of all people. She didn't even know why she had done it. And he had kissed her back. Obviously, they didn't recognize each other, but was she really that shallow, to just kiss some random guy? Plus, she liked Ron. If it had been Ron, she would have had no regrets. But it wasn't Ron; she had kissed HARRY. Harry was her friend, and she didn't have any romantic feelings for him.  
  
Hermione wanted to be with Ron. She would simply write Harry and tell him to forget what happened. She hoped she could do the same. Hermione still felt uneasy. She finally sought her last resort, a lullaby. She hadn't sung herself to sleep in years. It was Gaelic, from her mother's side, since her Grandmother was Irish. It was fairly simple, and Hermione remembered her mother teaching it to her a long time ago.  
  
Inionai, Inionai, Codailigi, codailigi Inionai, Inionai, Codailigi, codailigi,  
  
Codailigi, codailigi, Cois a chle mo, cois a chle mo Codailigi, codailigi  
  
Socair sasta, socair sasta  
  
Hermione suspected that there was some sort of sleeping spell in the song. Gaelic magic was different than the magic taught at Hogwarts. It dealt with the elements, and the spirits of the elves and the farie folk. She always fell asleep minutes after singing the last syllable.  
  
*******  
  
After she had finished her cry when she woke up, Hermione set about writing her letter to Ron, the one declaring her feelings. She sat at her desk, and pulled out a piece of parchment and an inkwell. She sharpened a quill and began to write.  
  
Dear Ron,  
  
I don't really know how to say this, so I will just be outright and truthful. I think I have feelings for you. Stronger than friendship, I mean. Ron, I like you. I like you a lot. I'm going to Bulgaria to break up with Victor. For you, Ron. I hope you return my feelings. If you want, I can visit you when I come back. Write me a response, whether you feel the same way or not. I anticipate your response.  
  
Yours in faith, trust, and love  
  
Hermione  
  
Hermione scanned it, looking for errors. She thought it sounded a bit cold, but it definitely got her point across. Now all she had to do was wait for a response.  
  
********  
  
Harry, overcome by curiosity, picked up the box from the unknown sender. He looked at the return address and gasped. It was from Remus Lupin, his old Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor. Harry knew that Remus had been a friend of his parents, and he had been Harry's favorite professor, but Lupin had never sent him anything before. He cautiously opened the box. He stared at the contents. Two goblets lay side by side on a blanket of crimson velvet. Harry reached out and touched one. They were made of flawless red glass and decorated with gold and rubies, the Gryffindor colors he realized. Harry picked one of them up and held it, letting the glass catch the morning light, sending red sparks of slight across the walls. He turned it in his hands, studying the detail and the craftsmanship. At the top, in tiny gold script was a name, Remus Lupin. Harry picked up the other goblet and turned the rim, searching for the name of the owner. He finally found it, but it made him drop the goblet. It landed softly on the velvet. Lily Potter. His mother had drunk from that goblet; she had held it in her hands.  
  
Overwhelmed by emotion, Harry frantically searched for some sort of card, some sort of reason why these had been sent to him. He finally found a note on crisp parchment, in the same scrawl as the return address.  
  
Dear Harry, By now I'm sure that you've overcome the shock of discovering the owners of the two goblets I have sent. It is time that you should have them. I'm sure they will mean more to you as soon as I tell you a bit of their history. Five goblets were forged on the island of Murano in Venice, Italy, for the wedding of James and Lily Potter. Venetian glass wizards have been forging glass since the early fifth century. The colors, as you can tell, are those of Gryffindor, our beloved house. I have sent you Lily's and mine. Of the other three, only two are currently in existence. You can probably guess whom the other goblets belong to. Sirius Black, James Potter, and Peter Pettigrew. Pettigrew's goblet was destroyed last year, when I became aware of his betrayal to your parents. Those goblets toasted the marriage of Lily and James. He does not deserve the memory of that event. Also, I have sent you some of my old school books and notes. You can probably tell that I have been doing some cleaning lately. I don't know if they will be of any assistance, but I have no use for them, and they make for good reading if you have time. Most of them are out of print. I hope you have a very happy birthday Harry. I am only sorry that I could not share it with you.  
  
Remus Lupin  
  
Harry was shocked. He didn't know what to think. Absently, he reached into the box and took out some of the books. They were remarkably intact, even if they were old. Some of the titles he had heard before, but most he hadn't. The genre seemed to lean towards DADA. Some of the titles were more menacing: Not Dark Magic, But Close and The Complete Dictionary of Dark and Dangerous Creatures. Lupin was right, there was some interesting material to read. Harry wondered why Lupin would send him books about dark creatures and spells. He probably wants me to be prepared Harry figured.  
  
He reached for the next box, Harry was happy to see that it was from Sirius Black, his godfather. He tore open the box, not surprised to see another set of red and gold goblets snug in velvet lining. However, he didn't have to search for the note accompanying the goblets.  
  
Harry, Remus told me he was sending you the goblets made for Lily and James' wedding, and I thought I would send you the ones I have. Now you have a complete set, minus one that can no longer be of any use. Remus saw to that. When your parents died, we split their wedding goblets. Remus got Lily's, and I took James'. They are charmed to be unbreakable, and Wizard glass doesn't break easily, but be careful with them. Don't let your muggle relatives see them, or who knows what could happen. We were originally going to give them to you for your wedding, but Remus said now was a better time. And I always listen to Remus. I'm so sorry I couldn't be with you today Harry. One day I'll be free, and you'll have the best birthday imaginable.  
  
Be strong Harry,  
  
Sirius  
  
Harry couldn't help it. He began to cry.  
  
********  
  
Hermione was restless. She had paced for the past half hour, thinking Ron and formulating her Plan. It hit her suddenly; she still had one more thing to do. Hermione opened her desk drawer and pulled out the velvet bag that she hid her savings in. She reached for her Galleons first. She also counted her crumples of pound notes and shoved all her money into her purse. At the last minute, she tucked her wand in her purse for an extra measure of safety, and then raced downstairs.  
  
"Mum, Dad, I'm going out for a bit," she called as she raced out the door. She didn't wait to hear their reply. Hermione jogged a block away from her house, and then stuck out her wand arm. She braced herself for the bang Harry had talked about. With a loud crack, the Knight Bus pulled up at her feet. Slightly shaken, Hermione climbed up the stairs.  
  
"Hullo Miss. Name's Stan Shunpike. Where you wanna go?"  
  
"Diagon Alley." Hermione was trying to gain her composure.  
  
"Alright. Eleven Sickles please." Hermione handed him the money. She didn't wait for his instruction to sit, and chose a bed in the middle of the bus. She sat down, but was thrown backward when the bus started again. She stayed in that position for the rest of the trip.  
  
When the bus finally got to Diagon Alley, Hermione muttered a goodbye as she struggled to get off the bus as quickly as possible. She headed into the Leaky Cauldron for a butterbeer, anything to calm her stomach. After three butterbeers, Hermione tapped the bricks in the back of the Leaky Cauldron and entered Diagon Alley.  
  
Her first stop was Gringotts, to change her Pounds into Galleons, Sickles, and Knuts. The goblin that helped her didn't look happy, but then again, none of the Gringotts goblins looked happy. She counted her money, hoping that she would have enough for what she was looking for. Hermione pushed open the door and walked down the street. She casually looked into some of the windows, looking with no intent on buying. Diagon Alley was surprisingly quiet today, and not very many people were shopping. It had grown strangely cold, compared to the day before anyway.  
  
Hermione stopped in front of Quality Quidditch Supplies and looked in the window. The latest broom on the market was the Firebolt X. It didn't look very different from Harry's Firebolt, or Ron's Cleansweep 7, a present from Fred and George that had left Ron speechless for days. She took a deep breath, and with a look of determination, she walked into the store.  
  
*********  
  
Harry had been reluctant to open the box he knew was from Hermione. He had procrastinated for three hours, cleaning his room, taking a shower, and writing two more of his summer essays. Harry looked at the clock. It was 9:30. The Dursleys would wake up soon. He knew he couldn't avoid Hermione's box forever, and eventually he sat on his newly made bed and opened it. It was the largest one of the six packages he had received that morning. He opened the note, which had been sealed with red wax. It seemed quite cheerful, considering the events of the previous night.  
  
Dear Harry,  
  
I hope this letter finds you in good health. First off, I would like to wish you a very happy birthday. I hope you like your presents. I think they will be very useful. I am going to Bulgaria on August first, but I'm only staying for two weeks. I'm going to send a letter to Ron. I hope he'll let me stay with him when I get back. Harry, what I'm about to tell you must be kept in the strictest confidence. I know how Ron feels about me. He's made it rather obvious, don't you think. I'm going to tell him that I return his feelings. I hope you're ok with this Harry. Please tell me if you're not. I don't want this to hurt our friendship. I hope you're having a great summer. I'll write from Bulgaria.  
  
Sincerely,  
  
Hermione  
  
Harry was dazed. Hermione liked Ron? He knew how Ron felt, and Hermione was right, Ron made his feelings very obvious.  
  
No wonder she didn't want me to tell Ron about last night. This explains a lot. I guess she didn't have time to edit this after last night.  
  
Harry opened the wrappings and pulled out three objects. The first was a black box, a lot like a radio. Silver letters spelled Wizarding Wireless Network. Harry lifted the antenna and turned the dial. There were several stations, classical, rock, muggle hits, etc. Harry found a station he liked and turned the volume down so the Dursleys wouldn't hear it. He picked up the other two objects. They were wand holsters, he realized. One had smaller straps than the other. It looked like one strapped on an arm, and the other was for the small of the back. Harry had to grin. They were made out of soft black leather, and were charmed to keep the wand from falling out, according to the tiny manual Harry found in the box.  
  
A loud thumping in the hallway told Harry that someone was coming. He had just enough time to shove the box and its contents into his open trunk and slam it shut. Vernon Dursley, eyes still tiny from sleep, pounded on the door. When he realized it wasn't locked, he opened it with just as much force.  
  
"Get downstairs boy, Petunia says you are to make breakfast."  
  
Harry jumped off the bed and skidded out the door. He went downstairs and into the kitchen. Dudley had his eyes glued to the television. Harry turned on the oven and pulled out eggs, bacon, and pancake batter. He worked silently but efficiently, and he was done in twenty minutes. Harry made a plate for the four of them and set the table. When Petunia and Vernon walked in, breakfast was ready, and even Petunia couldn't find anything to complain about. He soon learned why, when Vernon dropped his bombshells. Not one, but two.  
  
"You know boy, Grunnings is turning fifty this weekend." Vernon looked very pleased with himself. "And we (he sneered at Harry) are going to celebrate. Petunia is planning a party. Which you will be attending." Petunia looked shocked.  
  
"Vernon, isn't he going to stay in his room. Where no one can. see him!" Petunia was carefully masking her anger.  
  
"Nonsense, why should the boy sit and do nothing. He can serve drinks, or carry coats, tasks that would keep us from entertaining our guests," Vernon replied. Vernon gave Petunia a knowing smile. Petunia, seeing the light, smiled adoringly at her husband.  
  
Harry was stunned. He was going to do manual labor for the Dursleys, in front of people. It wasn't that Harry was concerned about the work, it would be easy enough, but obviously the Dursleys had something else in mind. They were planning something that would embarrass him a lot, something that would make him wish he'd never set foot on Privet Drive. He saw it in that smile Vernon gave Petunia. Harry swallowed; glancing from Vernon to Petunia, then back again. Vernon turned back to Harry.  
  
"Boy, today you will..."  
  
"I have a name," Harry shot back. Vernon looked indignant, but continued on his original train of speech.  
  
"Harry," He enunciated, "Today, you will work for Mrs. Figg. She called earlier this morning, asking for help with some manual labor. Cleaning her attic, or something like that. So go get dressed." Vernon looked at his watch. Harry started to get up.  
  
"Hurry up, boy. I said you would be there in five minutes!" Harry ran out of the kitchen. Seeing nothing wrong with his current outfit, Harry opened the front door and walked into the sunshine. He went very slowly down the block, not wanted to arrive any sooner than he had to. He knocked on Mrs. Figg's door.  
  
"It's open," a voice called from inside. Harry frowned. It didn't sound like the Mrs. Figg he knew. He opened the door.  
  
"Come in the kitchen, I'm just finishing breakfast," the voice called again. Harry walked into the kitchen. And he gasped. It was Mrs. Figg, except twenty years younger. Her back was to him. Her hair was long and brown, hanging to her waist. Her skin was smooth; there were no wrinkles in sight. She dressed quite nicely in a long skirt and a cardigan. There was a cat perched on each shoulder. She turned around and laughed at his expression.  
  
"Yes, it's me!" She spun around, dislodging the cats. They meowed, clearly annoyed. Harry hadn't changed his expression. He was slowly backing out of the room. She laughed again.  
  
"Harry, if I'd known you would react so strangely, I wouldn't have removed the aging charm."  
  
That's when it hit him. She was a witch. But she wasn't just any witch. She was Arabella Figg. Arabella smiled, and Harry walked back into the kitchen. Harry, still shaken, reached out his hand, which she shook. She had a firm grip. He looked at the scratches on her hand.  
  
"You were an Auror, weren't you?" The light in Arabella's eyes faltered for a minute.  
  
"Yes, a long time ago," she replied, a hint of sadness in her voice. She regained her light almost immediately. "You're probably wondering what you're doing here. I don't suppose you've brought your wand, have you? No you wouldn't have." She gnawed on a fingernail. Then she waved her other hand. Accio wand! Seconds later, Harry's wand shot through an open window and landed neatly in Arabella's hand. She handed it to him.  
  
"Now, I think I have some explaining to do. Come with me to the parlor." Harry followed her into a room adjoining the kitchen. He sat down in a chair opposite Arabella.  
  
"I am the notorious Arabella Figg. I was an Auror, but an injury forced me to leave the service. After the tragedy with Lily and James." She paused for a moment, and then continued. "Dumbledore asked me move here. He told me my talents should not be wasted, and that I was to protect you at all costs. He told me he had put a spell on your house, but we must be prepared never the less. For the past fifteen years, I have watched you grow up. I see the way the Dursleys treated you. I tell you now that I did everything I could to right the wrongs done to you. But there was nothing I could do, except to help you when you stayed with me. Remember all those awful things I used to feed you?" Harry nodded. "They had enough nourishment for weeks. My own recipes." She smiled again.  
  
"Thank you," Harry said quietly.  
  
"That's not half as bad as why you're here now. I'm to whip you into shape. So listen up." Harry saw a glint of what might be Arabella's inner Auror. She began to pace back and forth in front of the fireplace.  
  
"You have special permission to use magic, but ONLY with my supervision. You will learn spells more advanced that any student in seventh year will learn. I will teach you muggle martial arts and wizard dueling. Dumbledore says you can fight off Imperius. I'm going to teach you to numb yourself to Cruciatus. As you probably know, many people, wizard and muggle, have been physically and mentally destroyed by Cruciatus. Very few people can fight it off. You are going to be one of them. We will also work on wandless magic, since wands can get lost, or broken." She looked sad again. "I have divided the day into halves. The morning is for educational purposes, and the afternoon will be devoted to physical training. Since you're here, let's begin." Arabella stopped pacing and waved her hand. Instantly, a book soared into the room and landed on Harry's lap.  
  
"Read this tonight, and we'll discuss it tomorrow. I have a quiz made, to judge how much you know. It will show me what we have to cover, and what needs work." She waved her hand again. A piece of parchment, an inkwell, and a quill flew into her hand. She handed them to Harry.  
  
"You can use the table in the kitchen. The light is better." Harry went into the kitchen and sat down. Most of the questions were easy enough, discussing magical creatures, potions, and plants. He wasn't sure about the spells she wanted him to talk about. A few questions required muggle mathematics. Harry laughed out loud at the extra credit question. What is Arabella's favorite Quidditch team? Harry had no idea. He only knew about a few teams, anyway. Nothing in her house was orange, so he knew it wasn't the Chudley Cannons. He wrote down the only team he could think of, the Holyhead Harpies.  
  
When she saw he was finished, Arabella waved the parchment into her hands. She scanned the parchment, making marks with a quill dipped in red ink. She stared at one question for a few seconds and laughed again. Harry liked the sound of her laugh.  
  
"How did you know about the Quidditch team?" she asked.  
  
"I just guessed," Harry admitted. Arabella flicked her hand and a plate of cookies levitated into the air and landed in front of Harry.  
  
"Have one, or two, or six," she offered, laughing again. "I'm sure you don't get them very often." Harry munched on one as she continued.  
  
"You seem to have a decent knowledge of potions and plants, and muggle math. Some of you dark creature knowledge has been updated, but there's a book that came out a few years ago. It's not in print anymore, but you can have my copy." she left the room, still talking. She reappeared a moment later with The Complete Dictionary of Dark and Dangerous Creatures. She handed it to him.  
  
"I have that one," Harry said and handed it back to her.  
  
"How?" Arabella asked, looking a bit annoyed, "They stopped publishing this years ago, and there wouldn't be any in stock as far as I know of. They said it was too dangerous."  
  
"It was a birthday present, from Remus Lupin. He was a friend of." Arabella had that sad look in her eyes again. Harry stared, wondering what made her look so sad. She shook her head, shaking away the expression of sorrow. She set her copy on the table.  
  
"What else did Lupin send you?" she questioned.  
  
"Umm, Not Dark Magic, But Close, I think Vampires, Werewolves, and something, The Rise and Fall of Dark Wizards, and Hogwarts, a History. There were a few more, plus some of his notes."  
  
"I see," said Arabella, "You can use all of that to further your studies. Do a bit of reading tonight, and bring a book you'd like to work on tomorrow. Now, let's see. I haven't given a lecture in years, and your answer to the Grindelwald question was simply atrocious."  
  
*********  
  
Hermione had just enough money to pay for what she wanted. After a salesperson wrapped it up in brown paper, Hermione left the shop and wandered down the alley, back to the Leaky Cauldron. She ordered a sandwich and a butterbeer, since it was almost noon. Once again she flagged down the Knight Bus and hoped that she wouldn't lose her lunch as the bus lurched passed a lamppost. She raced off the bus as soon as it stopped, not even bothering to thank Stan Shunpike, who looked extremely put out.  
  
No one said anything when she opened her front door, so Hermione raced up to her room and shoved her parcel under her bed. Looking at her clock, she realized that she only had two hours to finish packing. She opened her trunk, which already had a few items of clothing in it. Over the next hour, Hermione raced around the room, putting clothes, shoes, parchment, and books into her trunk. She almost forgot her Diagon Alley parcel. The last item to go was her Bulgarian Conversation Guide. She had been working on a few phrases to say to the Krum family, so they wouldn't think she was just some British groupie who wanted the glory of dating their son.  
  
Three hours later found Hermione sitting on a plane, watching the clouds go by as she mentally rehearsed her Bulgarian phrases. She hadn't seen Viktor in two months. She wondered if he still felt the same way he had when he had been at Hogwarts. Hermione sure didn't.  
  
The plane ride seemed short, but Hermione was happy to be off it anyway. She had come here to get over her fear of flying, and she was determined to do so. Viktor was easy enough to spot, or rather; the place where Viktor was standing was easy to spot, since screaming fans surrounded him. Hermione elbowed her way through the crowd, and finally she managed to get near enough to grab his arm. Viktor spun around and immediately smiled. He reached out and pulled Hermione into a tight hug. Obviously he still likes me. This isn't going to be easy, is it?  
  
The Krum house was very nice. It was fairly large, and artistically furnished. Hermione's room overlooked a garden of sorts, and it had a small balcony with chairs to admire the view. The entire Krum family was slightly cold, but very hospitable. The food was good, and Hermione got along with Viktor's younger sister Sasha. In fact, it was Sasha who helped Hermione with her Bulgarian, and Sasha who gave her a tour of the town. Viktor was at practice a lot, or he was working out. He was also very studious, and sometimes they had wonderful discussions about something he was reading, or some idea he had formed. However, he still couldn't get her name right.  
  
He agreed wholeheartedly with her Plan, and he took off a day to help her. That morning, she dressed in Muggle sweats, with a cloak made especially for flying. Viktor led her to an empty field at the edge of the Krum property, and began to explain.  
  
"Now here is what you do, Hermy, I mean Hermy-mina, um." he instructed.  
  
"It's HERMY. Just call me Hermy. Can you do that Viktor?" she shouted. Hermione's nerves were suffering from the constant abuse of her name. The whole family, except for Sasha who had coaching, couldn't pronounce her name. It wasn't that hard to pronounce, was it?  
  
"Right Hermy, here is what you do. Sit on the broomstick like this." He showed her, and Hermione followed his actions.  
  
"Now you just kick off, and lift." He acted on his words. Hermione tried to swallow her fear, and in a burst of adrenalin, she kicked off hard. She shot upwards, then immediately forwards. She spun a bit, simply trying to hang on for dear life. But Viktor came up behind her and steadied her, and the two flew in large circles round and round the field. After an hour, Hermione was beginning to get the hang of it. She could fly on her own; even do spins and dips with ease of a practiced flyer. Viktor praised her incessantly, calling her a natural. It felt nice, Hermione had to admit.  
  
They flew every day, and towards the end of the week, Viktor was teaching her some basic Quidditch skills. He put her through a few trials, and determined that the Keeper position was the best for her. Hermione, who had never found Quidditch exciting before, had to admit that the game had some appeal.  
  
The last day before she had to leave, Viktor took her to the Bulgarian field and made her practice on the professional whoops. He called in a favor, and one of the Bulgarian Chasers, a man named Dimitrov, came and threw Quaffles at her to block. She thought he was going easy on her, but later Dimitrov confessed to Viktor in rapid Bulgarian that she really was a natural. Hermione, who had learned enough of the language to understand a few words, felt her toes tingle.  
  
*********  
  
Harry didn't know how the week passes by so quickly. Every morning, he was lectured on spells and potions and magical history. He had learned several new spells, even some of the spells in Not Dark Magic, But Close. Most were defense related, but some had more practical uses, like warming and language translation. Hermione would be so jealous! On Thursday, Arabella taught him to Apparate in only five hours. She had been shocked at his progress. Harry had been shocked that someone had bothered to teach him. On Friday, she had taken him to buy some clothes that fit. Harry was secretly delighted to sneak the shopping bags into his room. He immediately changed into jeans and a t-shirt. He couldn't help but look in the mirror a few minutes, happy that his reflection wasn't that of an elephant any longer.  
  
Every afternoon, Harry worked harder physically then he even had in his entire life. Arabella was a tough coach. They always started with a run, followed by push-ups, sit-ups, weight lifting, and martial arts. Every night when Harry crawled up the stairs, the Dursleys simply smirked, happy that they didn't have to see him all day, and he was working hard while absent. Harry slept dreamless nights, still as death.  
  
As he walked out the door on Saturday, Vernon stopped him.  
  
"Ask Mrs. Figg to attend the party, boy," Vernon demanded, "Tell her it starts at 8:00 and it should end around 11:00." Harry simply nodded, and walked towards Arabella's house. Suddenly, he stopped. The party was tonight. And the Weasleys were picking him up tonight, right in the middle of the party, too. Harry broke into a run and knocked quickly on Arabella's door. He explained everything to her.  
  
"Don't worry!" was all she said. Harry stared at her.  
  
"But they hate magic, and the Weasleys, and I know they aren't going to like whatever mode of transportation they pick me up in," Harry replied.  
  
"We'll think of something," she grinned, "Now where is that analytical essay on Celtic magic?"  
  
The night of the party was cool enough for Harry to wear black dress pants and a green linen shirt. He ran a comb through his hair and tossed it into his trunk. He shoved the lid shut and locked it, and then he set Hedwig's cage on top of it. Vernon barked at him to help set up drinks, so Harry ran down to the kitchen to help Petunia. Harry was not surprised when Arabella, aging charm in place, was the first one to arrive. She winked at Harry as Vernon led her to the back porch.  
  
Harry found that he was very bored. He had set up drinks and food, carried everyone's coat to the parlor where they would be kept, and after that, the Dursleys seemed to have no need for him. Harry found that he could even sneak a few crisps when Vernon and Petunia we talking to guests. As time ticked by, Harry began to grow uneasy. When the Little Whinging clock tolled 10:00, Harry nearly jumped out of his chair. He snuck into the house and pulled his trunk into the parlor. He pulled aside the curtains, searching the street for any sign of the Weasleys. Then he heard it, coming from the backyard. Harry paled, and ran to the porch.  
  
"Would anyone like a chocolate? Anyone? How about some toffee?" The Weasley twins were shameless, handing out their concoctions to anyone who asked. Harry could only stare. Dudley on the other hand was racing around, screaming at people to throw their candy away. No one paid any attention to him. Vernon and Petunia began to chase Fred and George, who easily evaded them. The rest of the guests had gone back to chatting. However, the twins finally found their prey, Dudley. As they backed him into a corner, Harry felt a tap on his shoulder.  
  
"Hullo Harry!" Ron was grinning from ear to ear. Harry had a good idea why.  
  
"Hullo Ron!"  
  
"Dad snuck around the front and he's getting your things. We're parked outside."  
  
"But I didn't see any car, and I looked just a moment ago." Harry frowned.  
  
"Goodness Harry, staying with these Muggles sure makes you forget things." Ron laughed, "There's an invisibility charm on it, stupid!" Harry laughed with Ron, realizing his mistake.  
  
"Come on, we're going to miss the show!" Ron grabbed Harry's arm and pulled him toward Fred and George, who had him against the wall at wand point.  
  
"Come now lad, eat up." Fred jabbed his wand at Dudley, who held a chocolate in his chubby hand. Dudley looked like he was going to pass out. George laughed as he put it to his mouth and swallowed meekly. Seconds later, two identical expressions of mock horror filled the twin's faces. The pointed shaking fingers and cried out in alarm. Dudley clawed at his face, and then passed out in a dead faint. Harry and Ron burst out laughing, announcing their presence.  
  
"Liked the show, did you?" George asked.  
  
"All in a days work," Fred added, rubbing his hands together. Just then, Mr. Weasley joined them.  
  
"What have you done?" he cried when he saw Dudley's limp frame.  
  
"Nothing dad, it's completely natural. Honest," Fred replied. "It was just regular chocolate from Honeydukes. Right expensive, wasn't it George?" George nodded. While two redheads were inconspicuous enough in a large crowd, four weren't. Vernon charged over, with Petunia in tow.  
  
"What are YOU doing here?" Vernon demanded.  
  
"We're just here to pick up Harry," Mr. Weasley replied.  
  
"WHAT!" Vernon shouted. The party guests all stared at him.  
  
Fred whispered in his ear, "I think now is the time to run!" The five of them took off leaping over the hedge. Petunia had rushed to Dudley, but Vernon was pursuing them at a fast pace. He was surprisingly fast when he was mad.  
  
Mr. Weasley had enough time to wave his wand and deactivate the invisibility charm, and the four Weasley's and Harry jumped into the car. Mr. Weasley turned the key and the motor jumped to life. Fred and George blew kisses at Vernon as the car sped down the street. Vernon shook his fist at them, but he and Privet Drive were soon out of sight. Fred and George slapped hands, congratulating each other on their mutual success. Harry couldn't help but grin. The summer could only get better. 


End file.
